


The Tower

by DecayedStarfruit



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Crests (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Demonic Beasts, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Execution Described in Prologue, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rhea Needs Actual Therapy, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Sothis is Actually a Goddess, Sothis is an Eldritch Gremlin Who Doesn't Understand People, There Are Actual Repercussions to Interacting with a Goddess, Time Shenanigans, Time Skips, Time Travel Fix-It, Will Not Tag Who
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25560151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayedStarfruit/pseuds/DecayedStarfruit
Summary: Ashe may have been knighted, but titles mean nothing when the people you hoped to help turn against you. Despite their actions, Ashe cannot blame them because out in the crowd he can see the masterminds behind it. He can't fault wary, starved masses for their hate when even those in power had been led around by the nose. In his dying breaths, he wishes he could have done more to help. Then, so soon after dying, Ashe wakes up......with something he never wanted burning deep into his blood.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 44





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction, and it's a pretty ambitious idea. I've been toying with posting this for months but now it's here. Just a heads up, some of the violence will be detailed, thus the Mature rating. But man, a lot is going to happen and I'm hoping I can manage to get everything I want into the story. Future chapters will be longer.

Irony was perhaps one of Ashe’s favorite brands of humor. He had read enough books to find pleasure in little twists, moments that could be laughed at. Though, staring out at the crowd armed to the teeth with pitchforks and blazing torches, Ashe supposed it was well within his right not to laugh at this irony. He could see the masked men weaving between the rioters, the villagers who were accusing him of being bewitched by the false goddess of the Central Church. Today was supposed to be the celebration of the end of the war, something all could partake in. But upon returning to the Gaspard territory he was instead met with the ransacked house of his adopted father, his remaining family missing. 

Ashe struggled in his binds, feeling splinters dig into his back from the pyre he had been sat upon. Tears rolled down his face as the cheers reached his ears, everyone surging forwards to throw torches at his feet. Between their jeering, Ashe could hear the chants of the mages. Their voices were reverent as they hollered, “ _For Agartha! For Shambhala! For the old gods!_ ”

  
If one or two bursts of flame were shot at him… nobody in the crowd noticed. The pain began to register as his shoes cracked and split. The flames were rising up his body. Blood began to rush through his ears, dulling the noise. He heard the distant flap of the Pegasus Corps, of the Knights of Seiros coming to save him. Except… Ashe was very much aware that the fighting would take too long. He’d burn up by then! 

His eyes met those of the Archbishop, of his once professor. The fear and worry in her gaze was palpable. The crackle of fire beneath him did nothing to stop the popping sensation in his ears, the crackle in the air as ozone wafted around him. The professor rapidly looked more tired, more worried, _horrified._ The fighting ceased around him, but Ashe was unfeeling. He was cold, his body not responding as he was lifted from the cinders. He could see the faces of healers around him, then that of his professor. He wanted to thank her, to tell her not to worry and that everything was okay now yet no words came. He began to understand, _oh, I’m dying. That’s… oh._

Byleth crouched, holding onto him. There were several more pops, and tears began to roll down her face. She leaned, cradling him to her chest. She was saying something, not that Ashe could hear it. His eyes began to close as his life began to leave him. Despite the numbness, there was a sudden warmth in his chest. He decided to focus on that feeling, since it was all that existed for him now. 

_I wish I could have done more for everyone. Then this wouldn’t have happened._

Despite his thoughts he let go, falling into nothingness with naught but a warmth blooming in his chest. For what felt like an eternity there was nothing.

“Wake up,” It was as sudden as it was gradual, forceful but not harsh.  
The voice stirred Ashe, and he opened his eyes. A blue sky stared down at him, clouds racing across it like horses. The rumble of the clouds was audible to Ashe. He moved his hands, gripping them only to find grass underneath him. He sat up, looking around. He was laying in a field of wheat and lavender. Cicadas and birds sang to him, as he stood. The mountains in the distance were unfamiliar, as were the stars in the sky. Ashe hadn’t ever heard of stars being visible in the daytime. 

Ashe was broken out of his observations by the sudden blur of green in his vision. He let out an undignified yelp as he fell back, staring up at the floating figure in front of him. She stared at him with a pout, putting her hands on her hips. “ _Finally_ you are up! Do you not know it is extremely rude to keep a lady waiting?”

  
Ashe’s throat felt dry as he observed the strange girl. Despite the wind, her hair remained pristine. A quick glance informed him that her clothing was strange like his. She huffed, leaning in and startling him, “Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

Ashe mumbled a small “sorry” as he stood back up. He met her gaze, asking what was on his mind, “Where am I? Who are you?”

  
The strange girl laughed. “No apologies for keeping me waiting? No, I suppose that wouldn’t be the first thing on your mind. You did come very near to dying, after all.” She drifted closer, placing a hand on her chest and bowing playfully as she said, “I am Sothis, otherwise called _The Beginning_. You should feel honored, child. Not many can claim to have ever met one considered a goddess.. Much less two who are considered such.”

  
Ashe didn’t quite get where he could have met another goddess, his gaze traveling over her form before it clicked as he stared longer at her hair. “Professor Byleth?”

  
She slyly smiled and motioned, “Yes, yes you are correct. My current incarnation could be called such, yes. She did something I did not know was possible, by sending you here. You would be dead if not for my other half’s actions.”

Her eyes seemed to stare into his very soul before she gave him an appraising look. “I know exactly what to do with you, little lion cub. You should not have made this journey yet you managed to find your way here. So, I will send you back.”

  
She leaned forwards, though Ashe interrupted her, “I have a question. While I was being executed, there were people in the crowd who weren’t normal. They were saying something about Agartha.”

  
That halted her joy and Ashe felt like his body was being burned all over again. Flashes of green, searing pain as he was ripped to pieces and forged into something lesser. He was used to kill his own children. _I have children?_ Ashe was brought back into reality by Sothis’ soft “oh”. He blinked, becoming aware of something warm on his face. He moved to touch it and pulled his hand away to see liquid gold creeping down his fingers.  
He should have been afraid, but he couldn’t find the feeling in him as he wiggled his fingers and watched flecks of the gold scatter from his digits with wonder.

“You… should not have seen that. My, we _should_ return you soon before you are not able to.” She drifted closer and took hold of Ashe’s face, drawing his attention to her as she tilted it this way and that. She smiled ruefully as she found what she was looking for, “I’m afraid that seeing that has left its mark on you already, my child. Without further intervention… you’ll collapse under the strain when I return you to life. So, I shall fix my mistake.”

  
Sothis brushed his hair over his ears, moving to kiss the top of his head, “So you may remember a life you no longer live.”  
  


Sothis kissed his cheek, “So your skin may never blister in flames again.”

Sothis finally took his hand, cutting into it with her nails. Blood welled up under her sharp nails, red and human as ever. She cut into her own hand, and droplets that moved and wiggled like flames sunk down into his cut. 

  
Ashe felt his body burning as she giggled, “I look forward to seeing which one you pick, little one.”

She moved, pushing him backwards. Ashe was helpless as he fell through time and space itself. He saw branches, some blue, some gold, some red… there were a couple as white as freshly fallen snow, and others as black as coal as they wrapped back around themselves. But among them all there was one green blur that dwarfed them all. Then, as Ashe blinked tears out of his eyes, he became aware of where he was. He was in his bedroom, the one he had back when he was a child. When Lord Lonato’s betrayal was an impossibility in his eyes, when Ashe still believed that everyone had a small seed of innocence in them.  
His eyes ghosted over his blankets, before resting at the top of his hand. His body went cold and clammy as he stared at the _thing_ on his hand. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning over the side of the bed and emptying his stomach of its contents. The glow on the back of his hand faded, but it didn’t soften the realization of what was now a part of him. It didn’t stop the tears rolling down his face as he felt _it_ resting in his body, waiting, ready. His crying didn’t stop when rapid footsteps announced the approach of someone, it didn’t stop when Lord Lonato opened the door with soft eyes and a grief dragging down his expression, and it didn’t stop when servants cleaned him up and cleaned his mess; Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it. Not from his classmates, not from Lord Lonato, not from _her_.


	2. The Scholar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here's another chapter of my attempt at writing! I'm happy to have gotten positive comments, and for this work to have been bookmarked. I won't lie, I had to rewrite this chapter three times and each time was very, very different. I'm satisfied with what's written, and I'm certain that if I left it another day I'd rewrite it again so I might as well post it to stop myself.

Getting out of bed was going to be a problem for Ashe. His limbs were heavy, they felt so strange to him. Another matter was Lord Lonato, who was now gripping onto him as if Ashe was about to crumble to dust. Ashe heard through the rush of blood in his ears that Lonato asked one of the servants to help him go back to sleep. He struggled at that, trying to get out of bed. Some servants helped hold him down, and one came near him with hands glowing a brilliant gold. His elbow shot out as he squirmed, hitting something that felt like flesh. He let out a strangled gasp as his blood burned. It was agonizing, but not as horrible as the first time the _thing_ activated. He looked over his shoulder, horrified he might have hurt one of the servants with the powered limb. No, instead the servants were staring at him, mouth agape. Lord Lonato’s hand was held firmly to Ashe’s elbow, though his skin was rapidly discoloring. Ashe jerked away from the horrified servants, pulling himself from the bed and running from the room. 

Lonato stared at his hand in thought, before holding it out for one of the servants to heal. Within seconds the pain had gone away, and Lonato shook out the sensation of pins and needles. He murmured to the servants, “I shall go find my wayward son. Clean up the rest of this mess and ensure his bed is made before I return.”  
He straightened his posture, leaving the bedroom and stepping out into the halls. He looked to either side of the hall, pondering where Ashe could have gone. The servants filed out of the room, going their separate ways as they bustled to do as he had said. His shoes tapped quietly against the ground as he searched each room. The place was huge so he suspected he’d grow tired of this method very quickly. Ashe’s siblings slept soundly, and none of the other servants nor the guards could tell Lonato where the preteen had gone. 

Lonato had just passed the doors outside his study when he heard a muffled thud from within. He pushed the door open silently, peering inside. The shelves of books and furniture were swathed in darkness. It was only the light from the window that enabled Lonato to see at all. He looked around the room, stepping inside as he looked for Ashe. He nearly tripped over a book on the ground, stooping to pick it up. The title embossed on the spine read _Stars and Spirits,_ a fable that the Church had banned for claims of blasphemy in its depiction of the Goddess. He turned it in his hands, before glancing up again. His breath left him as he saw Ashe standing in front of the window. He took a step forward.

* * *

  
  


Ashe had retreated into the study because he was certain he would be alone there. His too-small limbs trembled as he came to a halt in front of the window, staring out at the night sky. There were no clouds, just the sky and its flickering stars. He sat down, rubbing at his eyes as small whines escaped him. Those whines became hiccups, and those hiccups became sobs. He could feel tears rolling down his face as he sat partially in moonlight and tried desperately to understand the full scope of what had been done to him. Everything was wrong; His blood burned and his body felt far too small. He almost expected to burst at the seams and for everything to come tumbling out of him. He hugged his body as he rocked, crying for what felt like an eternity.

He jumped as a hand touched his head, looking up to see nothing. Despite the nothingness, Ashe’s tears stung and he could feel his blood sing in response. His heart jolted in his chest, rattling against his ribcage as he scrambled backwards out of the light. The touch faded. His back hit the wood of the desk and a book slid off of it, hitting the ground with a loud slam. He was unaware of it, eyes trained on the silhouette on the ground. He swallowed and despite his pounding heart he leaned forward on his knees and reached one hand into the light. The shadow took his hand, tugging him into the light completely. His eyes widened as he fell forwards, sitting in the light as he waited. Nothing. He stood, staring out at the clear night sky. 

Then, before his eyes, Sothis materialized in the glass. She looked far more annoyed than he could imagine, crossing her arms as she ranted, “You are quite the foolish one! One does not so needlessly weep over a simple _gift_! Are you not grateful? Must I do more?! You’ve left me very confused, I hope you know.”

Ashe felt properly chastised, but he also was angry. He yelled at her as he expressed his anger at what she had done to him, “I didn’t want _this!_ I don’t want it, take it back!” 

He felt a thump on his head, jolting as he watched her mime the action that he had just clearly felt.   
  
Her words were cutting, “I will have you know that without it your body would have simply given out on return to this plane! A crest may not be to your liking, _child_ , but it is far better than the alternative! You should be grateful that I did not simply leave you to waste, you being a corpse would not have helped your loved ones at all and we both would be alone again. Need I remind you of what occurred to bring you to my domain?”

Ashe trembled as flashes of fire and the smell of burning flesh echoed in the back of his skull, shaking his head frantically.   
  
Sothis continued, eyes glittering, “Do you hate your body? Must I take you apart and put you together again and again until you are satisfied? _Would_ you be satisfied? What must I make of you to make you happy? Would you have rather not been Ashe at all? A noble by birth? A faceless soldier on a battlefield? Some poor experiment in the pits of _their_ home? If I had been in your position, I would have wasted no time in ensuring what has happened once would not come to pass. Alas, I am but a fragment and you, _you_ , are acting as though I am cruel for allowing you a fighting chance against _them_.”

Ashe shuddered, watching the reflection of the Goddess shatter. He reached to try and apologize, to make her come back, before letting out a yelp as a hand clamped down on his wrist. He turned, looking up to see Lord Lonato. He thought for a second he was about to be killed, from the dark look in his eyes. To his shock, Lord Lonato instead pulled him into a tight hug. Ashe hesitated before burying his face in the man’s chest, fisting up the fabric of his shirt as he held onto his father.  
  
“Ashe,” Lonato’s voice was gentle but clear, “what happened to you, my boy?”

He couldn’t get out enough words to explain everything. His tears made it feel as though he was swallowing needles, and each word was like a knife dragging up his throat. He mumbled into the fabric, “I-I, the crest. It hurts. Don’t... trust her. I don’t want to leave again.”  
  
“Again? Ashe, my boy, what are you talking about-” He froze just as he looked down at Ashe and saw something he hadn’t been able to before.   
Lonato reached, tugging one of Ashe’s arms up to stare at the veins glowing like fire underneath his skin. He moved to one knee and pushed Ashe away from him, gently grasping the boy’s cheeks to make Ashe look at him. “Son, who did this to you?”

Ashe blinked away his tears, trying to calm himself so he could speak more than a couple words. He also realized he couldn’t just say he was talking to the Goddess- that she had done this to him. That would not fly well, not here, probably not anywhere else. He tried to think of anything he could say otherwise. Deep down he realized what he could do. It was just stupid enough to work. It was just good enough to save his life. He felt a little guilt rising at the fact he would be lying to Lonato, but he found that he felt none about who he was so willingly about to point blame at. He opened his mouth and lied as smoothly as a fish could swim, “S-Someone who said they came from th’ Western Church. I-I thought they were here to see you, but… they said they’d kill you if I screamed and then they hurt me.” 

Lonato’s brow furrowed, and he seemed to age ten years at Ashe’s words. He tugged his adopted son into a hug, mind racing at the possibility. It would not be too far fetched, seeing as the Western church had just changed hands with the passing of its bishop and the appointment of a new one at the recommendation of a mage from the late King Lambert’s court. It lined up with what Ashe had said about not trusting _her_ and the _Western Church_ , whoever this woman was she clearly had managed to get past the guards and servants whether by trust or by skill, though it was a horribly vague answer all the same. If it were a man under his command he would thoroughly chastise him, but this was a young boy who hadn’t seen battle. He had not killed yet, nor had he been declared decent enough in a subject to attend the academy- he was only thirteen. So, Lonato pushed aside his annoyance at not being given a proper answer and instead focused on comforting the boy.

He rubbed circles into Ashe’s back as he held the sniffling boy. “Let us get you back to bed. I will have a healer tend to you, and in the morning we will see what we can do about your... crest.” 

Ashe allowed himself to be picked up, closing his eyes as the stress caught up to him. He was asleep before they were even halfway down the hall. Lonato was pleased to see that the room had been cleaned up, tucking Ashe back into bed. He noticed a small platter with sweets on it, feeling a little of his stress fade. Ashe was loved by the servants, that much was clear. He gently pat Ashe’s shoulder and murmured a “goodnight” as he stood. He took one of the sweets, nibbling on it as he left the room. 

* * *

  
  


Come morning, Ashe was woken by one of the servants and informed that he was going to be meeting someone today and that he should dress in some of the pricier clothing he has. He wore one of the more expensive outfits that wasn’t his church wear, pulling on his boots. He laced them and stood, a little steadier than the night before. He left the room and went down the hall to where he knew his father would be. He did, however, wonder who Lonato wanted him to meet. It wasn’t as though he had many friends around this time of his life. He knocked on the door and was told he could enter. He opened the door and stepped inside. He almost tripped over his own feet as he saw the familiar monocle and none of the recognition in the scholar’s eyes.

Ashe nervously introduced himself with a polite bow, glancing at his father. There was a strange look in his eyes that was directed to the crest scholar. Ashe sat down, glancing between the two. He swallowed and asked, “Lord Lonato, who is this?”

The old lord didn’t get a chance to reply, as the scholar reached across the way and took Ashe’s hand. He shook it, eyes glowing with interest and clear joy. Ashe almost missed Lonato tensing at the movement. The man opened his mouth, “I am Hanneman, my boy. It is a pleasure to meet you.” 

Ashe nervously smiled, “I would say the same of you, sir. Why are you here?” _Why are you here? You are supposed to be at Garreg Mach. You aren’t supposed to meet me for years._   
  


“I was passing through the territory back to the Monastery after dealing with some business near here. I did not think that I would get a chance to work with a commoner with a crest.”

Lonato’s curt tone cut off the scholar, “Please make haste and do whatever it is you need to do. My _son,_ ” he stressed the word, “has had a rough night and I would prefer to get this done swiftly so he can rest some more.”

Ashe allowed the scholar to hold his wrist as he dug through his bags for something.  
  
Hanneman took out the instrument and sat it on the table between them. He explained its purpose more for Lonato’s sake than Ashe’s, seeing as the older man was plenty tense. Ashe closed his eyes as he felt a prick of a blade against his finger. He heard Hanneman’s gasp, opening an eye to see golden blood creeping down his finger and splattering against the instrument. The machine crackled and a crest fashioned like a tower visualized in the gem-like center. Ashe could hear the arms of Lonato’s chair creak and splinter under his adoptive father’s grip.   
Hanneman did not seem to notice, instead inspecting the golden blood. “H-How on earth…” 

Ashe took his hand back, looking down at the cut on his finger. He saw Hanneman reaching to touch the blood, hand shooting out to stop him. That proved to be the right move, as a large spike formed from the droplet. It was clearly sharp enough to have penetrated the man’s flesh had he not been stopped. He let go of the scholar’s hand and settled back into his seat, apologizing for his rough treatment. His eyes twitched up to the crest that stared back tauntingly. He then looked to Lonato, who was avoiding his gaze. Hanneman asked Ashe to clean up the blood, as it would not let him anywhere near it. Ashe did so, taking the handkerchief that Hanneman offered him and watching the fabric swallow up the liquid. 

Hanneman changed gears and turned to Lonato, “I did not know that House Gaspard had ties to-”   
  
Lonato interrupted him with a raised hand. “Ashe is not my son by blood. He is not of _that_ house by blood. His... His crest was forced onto him by perpetrators I cannot name aloud. Those events took place last night, which is why your being nearby was a blessing. I am putting a lot of trust in you by believing you were not involved.”

Hanneman seemed frankly bewildered, “forced onto him? Surely you jest, I have never heard of a crest being forcibly implanted in someone. Regardless, I will have to inform the family of the presence of this boy.”   
Hanneman stood to leave but found his exit blocked by Lonato.

Lonato spoke, “You will not let the knowledge of his crest leave this room.”

The scholar was confused, trying to step around him, “I am afraid that I cannot accept that. If it comes out that I tested him and in fact hid his results I will face possible execution.” 

“I am _not_ losing another son, and if I have to cut you down to keep it that way I will do so without hesitation,” Lonato raised his voice, throwing out a hand to block him in.

Hanneman’s brow furrowed, “I _apologize_ and I truly do sympathize, but it is my life and my life’s work at stake. I cannot risk losing all I have worked to attain. He isn’t your heir, so if House Charon wishes to take him they have both the backing of the Kingdom and the Church.”   
  
Lonato’s gaze was steely as he smoothly responded with something on the spot, “then Ashe will be named my heir to succeed Christophe. I would have left him it all anyway, but if a legitimate claim is necessary I will have it done. All I need is your word that you will give me until the end of this month.”

Lonato watched as Ashe offered to help Hanneman pack up his things, sparing a glance to the shadows of men outside the door. He tapped the door twice and heard footsteps leaving the space outside the door. He crossed his arms as he watched the two, curious as to Ashe’s relaxed mood. He almost seemed comforted by the presence of the scholar, which was in direct contrast to how terrified he had been the night before. Ashe brought up that he was learning how to use a bow, which seemed to intrigue Hanneman. The two seemed to hit it off, discussing archery as they packed. 

It was an interesting sight, to see a scholar breaching his fifties talking to a thirteen year old as if they were old friends. Lonato could have almost fooled himself, had he not known beforehand that the two had never met before. Once Hanneman was packed up and being escorted out, Lonato pulled him aside and mentioned he would be sending a correspondence in half a month’s time. Lonato escorted Hanneman down the hall, down the steps, and back out to where his escorts were waiting. The aged lord watched Hanneman leave.

 _Now, I have to make preparations for Ashe. We have only a month before his place here might be challenged,_ he thought, _I would have thought I’d have left him time to mourn for his brother but there is little I can do now. Goddess, keep him here with me, please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading this! It makes me happy that I even got just one Kudos on this work and it makes me happy that someone actually wants to see what becomes of it! On the other hand, I'm afraid I'm going to have to break out a thesaurus soon enough because I am in desperate need of more words for things.


	3. The Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another chapter, hot off the press and literally hours after I perhaps should be resting- but regardless of my state of rest it wanted to happen tonight and so it did.

The month that was spent gathering the means to declare Ashe as Lonato’s heir felt far longer than it should have. Most of it was spent traveling, between many territories where they stayed for less than a day before being ushered to the next location. Ashe had seen far more of Faerghus than he could have claimed to even in his past life although he couldn’t claim to have had the time to properly admire everything both times. He sat rimrod straight in the carriage bringing both him and his father to the next location. It was still rather peculiar actually referring to Lord Lonato as his father, but he supposed he had thought of him as one for a long time. 

On the second-to-last day of the month, the ride was silent. Silent because even though they had the graces of several higher-station noble families it would all be moot if the Central Church stepped in to remove Ashe from the Gaspard house. Ashe fiddled with the tassels on his book as he quietly read. Lonato was also reading, though it wasn’t from a book. It was a correspondence between him and Hanneman. Since the fateful meeting, the two had begun to write to each other to stay in contact in regards to Ashe and his _unique_ situation. Ashe looked up to see Lonato’s troubled expression, sliding his bookmark between the pages of his novel and shutting the book.

Ashe spoke in a practiced tone, with only a small trace of his softer demeanor, something he had only recently begun to control, “Is the professor experiencing another block in his attempt to weasel information out of the _celebrated_ Archbishop?”

Lonato acknowledged in a concise manner, “The Archbishop just appointed a man with startling familiar green hair to the position of her advisor.”  
  
Ashe leaned forward, clasping his hands as he focused on Lonato’s expression. “You are certain that they are related.”

Lonato blinked in a slow, deliberate manner. “Now, remember. It matters not how you speak with me, but you should not speak so brazenly of a theory if you are to meet with other nobles… not until you can understand their nuances and leaning.”

Ashe tapped his foot and scooted a little further forward in his seat, remembering Sylvain and Felix. He said rather cryptically, “I do not believe it will be a problem in the future.”

Lonato thumped him on the head with the rolled parchment. “Hush. Either tell me what it is you are keeping so close to your chest or speak not at all. You are going to be expected to be forward if you are to lead men, so you best get used to speaking only what is necessary.”  
  
Ashe slid back into his seat, rubbing the top of his head with a firm pout. He glanced out the window of the carriage and instead asked, “Are we nearing the castle?”

Lonato hummed his affirmation, “We will be in within the hour. The King Regent is seeing to our matters swiftly. He’s a sorry sort, sleeping and drinking away the kingdom’s money with no care for the Prince’s wellbeing. I would not be surprised if the Prince is absent from the ceremony.”  
  


Ashe blinked as Lonato leaned across the space and fixed his clothing. Once Lonato was done Ashe looked down and committed the appearance of his clothing to memory. He shivered as the fur of the hooded cloak he wore tickled the back of his neck. He reached and pushed the fur flat. It was a new article for him- something that he had acquired within the month. It was tradition, Lonato had told him, to arrive with one proof of adequacy in one craft or another. Archery meant hunting, food, wealth. The cloak was a fine example of what he could catch.

The carriage came to a halt, and Ashe followed Lonato out. Their escort was silent but not entirely mourning. Their moody gazes were visible even from behind their helmets. Ashe fought a shiver and merely stared straight ahead, chin straight and expression smooth. His pupils shrank as he came to the realization the knights were staring at him as if he were nothing but dirt on the heel of their boots. This wasn’t a safe place. A flash of green caught his eye and without turning his head he tried to find what he had seen. _Sothis?_ Ashe inquired, _Is she trying to catch my attention?_  
  


Foolishly, he allowed his head the barest of movements as they passed a window. _There it is again!_ Ashe was a little more bold in his searching. The group passed a window with glass a different sheen than those before. It was newer than the other panes. He tried to catch another glance at Sothis but instead found the reflection of the group. A man with Sothis-green hair had joined the group. Ashe’s eyes traveled to those of the reflection, and his heart sank at the look the man was giving him. _He knows I was looking for something_ . Ashe stopped looking for Sothis. He also wasn’t blind to what it meant if _Seteth_ were there. The Church of Seiros was interested in Lonato’s business, which if things went the right way would soon also directly be _Ashe’s_ business. He swallowed his nerves and stuck a little closer to Lonato.

They arrived at the meeting chamber far sooner than Ashe would have liked. The guards detached from the group and took up positions on either side of the large doors. Ashe, Lonato, and _Seteth_ were allowed in after a moment. Lonato and Ashe paid certain attention to customs, treating the King Regent amicably. Meanwhile while Seteth wasn’t directly disrespectful, he was adhering to customs that were hundreds of years old. He shuddered at the barely concealed distaste on the expression of Rufus, Dimitri’s uncle and currently the biggest disappointment to the royal family through means of adultery and drink. Ashe would not be surprised if gambling was also a part of the man’s list of barely legal sins. He forced down a sneer, acting the part his father said he was to play. They already had a leg up against the Central Church, seeing as Seteth had already made several breaches of etiquette that he was entirely unaware he was making. 

Rufus was very clearly inebriated, and recently left the bedroom if his messy blond locks and poorly concealed love-bites were any indicator. The man was very clearly in a hurry to get through this, leaning forward in his seat as he motioned for the two sides to make their arguments. Seteth stepped forward first, breaking yet another unspoken rule. Ashe listened as Seteth laid out that Hanneman recently came to light about a visit with the two that proved that Ashe had a crest. 

Seteth’s voice was firm as he continued, “Archbishop Rhea believes it would be best if the child is given to the house that historically possessed his crest. They would be best suited to teach him their ways and manners of nobility. No doubt the harm done through lack of education and lack of blood-related family can easily be undone.”

Ashe felt just a little vindicated that Rufus merely waved his hand dismissively and let Lonato speak next. In fact, “Pardon the poor manners of the Archbishop’s advisor, Lord Lonato. It is clear he has not read up on the ways of Faerghus. Now speak swiftly so I may decide where the boy stays.” _and get back to my private life_ were the unspoken words here. Rufus probably was not the most religious, considering it was devotion to the Church and its ideals of purity of blood were what led to him being cast off. 

Lonato bowed his head politely and spoke, “Ashe was a boy who came into my home with his two siblings after losing their parents. He had been left to fend for his two siblings. I have lived with him for but a short while, but in that time he has expressed to me a desire to be a part of my family. He loved my heir, his older brother, with as much passion as I had. It would be senselessly cruel to take away another parent from him just as he has lost his brother and deliver him to the custody of those who would no doubt treat him poorly for my late son’s part in removing one of their own from their fold.”

Ashe stepped forward at Lonato’s motion, “I ask that I be allowed to remain with Lord Lonato as his newly named heir. He had cared for me as his own, and I recognize him as my father.”  
His hand came to rest over the fur of his cloak. “I have been blessed with the abilities of archery and the form to excel there. If I were to go House Charon, what I’ve already begun to culture would instead be ignored in favor of having me adhere to a skillset that I am frankly not interested in.”  
His gaze crept over to Seteth, who seemed baffled and a little insulted. Ashe opened his mouth to continue before being rudely shushed by Rufus. 

The man seemed to deliberate, before glee came across his expression. Ashe was brought forward and the man looked him over. Despite his apparent distaste for the position he was in, Rufus was absolutely giddy at this very moment. Ashe’s hair was ruffled and the Grand Duke, now regent until the Crown Prince came of age, announced that Ashe would stay with Lord Lonato. Ashe could smell the bitter wine on the man’s breath, and despite the urge to gag he merely bowed his head politely and thanked him. Seteth was escorted from the room as a private ceremony took place.

Exiting the chamber once it was done, father and son both bumped into Seteth. The man looked like a wreck, flustered and pacing. His gaze shot to Ashe the second they left the hall. Seteth strode forward and crouched to be eye level with Ashe. “You are certain that you will be well cared for?”  
Those words made Ashe sympathize with Seteth’s view a little more. The man must have come with assumptions in his mind. Ashe’s lips thinned as he saw the concern in the man’s eyes. Ashe spoke firmly, “My father is not a danger to me, nor is his influence on my education a flaw to be corrected. I would rather you not make assumptions based on the fact he and I do not share blood.”

Ashe stepped back, allowing Lonato to place a hand on his back and direct him towards the bedrooms that they had been provided. Servants flanked them, trained in case of violence but deferential otherwise. The long halls were rather confusing, and they were far too different from those that Ashe was used to. Strangely, despite the larger number of servants and guards compared to his home, the halls were unkempt. There was dust, cobwebs, and other things that Ashe dare not think too much on. He took care to glance at the floor occasionally to make sure he wasn’t about to step on a spider or offend one enough to attack him.

Ashe did not want to think of the implications of a poorly kept castle.

When they arrived at the rooms, the servants motioned to a set of doors at the end of the hall and said that they were not allowed to go beyond them as it led to a private wing of the castle. Ashe felt curiosity stirring and crushed it. Both he and his father parted for the night, going into their separate rooms. Once alone, Ashe found himself staring at a desolate room. It was barren, obviously cleaned out. He approached, running a finger over a shelf and pulling his hand back to see a heavy coating of dust on his digit. He wiped it off and glanced around the rest of the room. There was a window, and he caught that same familiar blur of green.  
  


Ashe approached the small window, feeling queasy. He stood just out of the moonlight. He could see the silhouette of his current phobia. He hesitated for what felt like hours, before he stepped forward into the light. All fear left him, leaving him with a subdued sense of realization that this surely must not be good for him. Sothis’ expression could only be described as disappointed. She reached, and he could feel her hands touching his cheeks. Ashe could not help the thought of a thousand burning suns in her eyes, nor the rumble of distant worlds and knowledge not his own swimming in the space around him.

Sothis murmured, “Why have you drawn away from me? Are you not aware that you are a part of me now? Must you ignore the salt-bitter words clinging to my tongue like plague to the bloodlines of the defilers who stole my children from me? You have avoided me for the whole of this month. I am no fool to the passage of time now, nearly a whole moon has come and gone. Will you continue to willingly deny me the sight of one of my children?”

Ashe could only whimper as her grip tightened and her pointed, unnatural nails dug into his cheeks. He gazed into her eyes, and her alien expression softened.  
“My child.” She crooned distantly, “ _my child._ Why do you fight me so? Have I been remiss in my duties? Have I done something to make you withdraw until now? You have seen something that not even my firstborn could be privy to. You have seen into the mind of _Me_ and for a moment we were _One_. You have gazed upon time itself and it has marked you as worthy. Do not hide from my eyes again.”

Ashe couldn’t even nod, seeing as she still had a firm grasp of his face; His expression must have been enough to confirm something to Sothis. She let go, leaving crescents in his flesh that oozed the shimmering gold of his blood.  
She withdrew her hands, “I care very much for you, little one. Far more than you believe. Now, sleep.” 

  
Ashe’s eyes drooped and he slumped, laying on the cold stone tiles as Sothis vanished.  
  
In the morning, Ashe awoke to find his body numb. At first all he could do was roll onto his back and hold his hand up in front of him. He stared at the pink flesh and wiggled his chilled digits as feeling began to creep back into them. He sat up, looking down at himself to realize he was still in his clothes from the previous night. He got up, struggling to keep his ankles from collapsing beneath himself. He stumbled over to his things, passing a mirror. He froze, pausing in front of it. His ankle wobbled again and he gripped the smooth surface of the vanity to steady himself. Gold streaked down his face, from his eyes, nose, his mouth. He moved his head and grimaced as he realized there was gold trailing down either side of his head as well. Had his blood been red, he would look the part of a corpse. 

He reached and grabbed a clean cloth from the far corner of the vanity’s surface, wetting it with spit and frantically rubbing at the marks. Most of it came off, but he gaped as he realized that he had a couple more _freckles_ than before… if they could even be considered such. The golden dots clung to his skin like stardust, glimmering as he leaned towards the mirror and moved his head. They contrasted greatly with the actual flecks of darker color. They would not be noticeable unless anyone staring at his face was up close. And there along his jawline, were the nail-marks of Sothis’ design. He swallowed as the marks faded, rubbing them as he could nearly imagine a giggle behind him. He whirled around. _Nothing_.  
  
He dressed into different clothes, unable to look his reflection in the eye as he tried to find anything he could use to cover the marks. _Nothing_. It was as if Sothis were behind him, making sure he couldn’t hide what she did to him. He wiped at his eyes, almost able to feel phantom tears rolling down his face. He left the room, and almost immediately bumped into someone. He let out an undignified squeak and shut his eyes tight as his freezing feet gave out on him. After he most assuredly didn’t hit the ground and shatter into a million pieces he dared to open his eyes. Sage Green met Arctic Blue and Ashe felt his heart stutter in his chest. The frigid gaze, tight with mourning, trailed over his appearance. 

Watching Dimitri like this, Ashe couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit under the appraising gaze of a wolf. _Or would a lion be more accurate_ , Ashe wondered as he stared back. He righted himself and dusted himself off, feeling rather conscious of the unblinking stare. He didn’t know how to approach _this_ Dimitri. He swallowed and introduced himself politely before apologizing for running into him. There was a quiet sound, almost like a sigh or a simple breath. Ashe took a half-step back.  
  
Dimitri politely forgave the unintentional attempt at tripping him. Ashe’s heart thudded in his chest as Dimitri leaned in, staring closer at his face. Ashe did not like this. He could have dealt with the Dimitri he had seen at the academy, he could have dealt with the unhinged grief of the one he had known through the war, he could have dealt with the one that had loved Byleth. He was not prepared for this young Dimitri who had only just lost his father, his stepmother, his stepsister. He took another unconscious step back. Ashe vanished back into the guest room, feeling the Crown Prince’s eyes follow him the whole way. Even as the door shut and Ashe found himself back in the room, he could still imagine Dimitri’s eyes burning a hole through the door and through him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update might take a moment, since my birthday is coming up and my family makes a rather big deal of it. I hope that this chapter found you all well and that you all enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Just editing this to let you know I have social media that I intend to start using regularly. It won't always be Fire Emblem related but I promise more of that content will be present in the coming days:  
> https://twitter.com/Lil_Shop_Of_Odd  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sinisterette-dichotomy


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